


The Show Must Go On

by literaryempress



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Academy Awards, Actors, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Award Nominees, Award Winners, Car Accidents, Character Death, Crying, Death, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Engagement, Gallavich Week, Gallavich Week 2016, Heavy Angst, Hollywood, Isolation, M/M, Speeches, Wakes & Funerals, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryempress/pseuds/literaryempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Actor/Hollywood AU. The world begins to shake as Hollywood mourns the loss of one of its beloved actors, Ian Gallagher. However, while some may find it easier to move on from this tragedy, others like his former fiance, Mickey Milkovich, can't seem to get time to move forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Show Must Go On

Ian was completely exhausted. His prime-time drama _Order in the Court_ just finished wrapping up its fourth season today. This season finale was the most dramatic one Ian’s ever participated in, for a lot of emotional and physical energy had been drained out of him through fight scenes, a few cries on cue, and maybe a good old monologue that was scheduled to be in the last twenty minutes of the episode.

That didn’t mean he didn’t love his job, though. He loved his job with a passion. Ever since he turned ten years old, he’s always wanted to be an actor, and now he was practically living the dream. Life couldn’t get any better.

With his index and middle finger, Ian tugged his purple tie off his neck and started to unbutton his lavender dress shirt. As much as he loved the costume department for this show, he never really believed that purple was his color, though the tie specifically looked very nice, as if it was designer or something.

Ian started getting dressed in his street clothes – a gray KIIS shirt, some blue jeans, white socks with a hole in the left food, and a worn-out pair of Converses – and neatly hung up the formal attire he previously took off. He started to look around the trailer to make sure everything was put back the way it should before he packed his script in his brown leather bag. It was a good thing he was over by the vanity, too, because when his eyes drifted towards the bottom of the mirror, he knew he was forgetting something.

His engagement ring.

The directors told him he couldn’t wear his engagement ring on set, so Ian had to take it off and put it in a safe place until shooting day was over. On the desk wasn’t the safest place for Ian to put his engagement ring, sure, but he was in a rush that day; waking up almost thirty minutes before he was scheduled to be on set wasn’t the way he wanted to start the day.

Ian took the silver band, checking it for any dust, makeup marks, or scratches before slipping it on his ring finger on his left hand. The ring was beautiful, and he still couldn’t believe it was his now. What made the ring stand out – and made Ian’s heart swell – was the engraved _I + M_ on the outside of the band.

He and his fiance Mickey Milkovich had been engaged for almost a year now, and they were scheduled to have their wedding a few months from now in August. They spent all of November and December planning out their wedding while they were both on winter break from their respective television shows. Ian smiled at the memory of just sitting on their cozy, comfy living room couch in front of the fireplace, just brainstorming their reception and what colors they wanted the flowers, ties, and dresses for the bridesmaids to be.

Ian couldn’t wait to get married now.

After gazing down at the ring for several moments, Ian looked around once more, making sure he wasn’t leaving anything, and grabbed his leather bag before exiting his trailer. Season four of _Order in the Court_ was a success, and now Ian had a few months to himself to just relax for a bit.

To relax with his soon-to-be husband.

 _Husband_. He just loved the sound of that.

The redhead strolled through the parking lot and gave fans his signature smile as he spotted them over by a gate somewhere, being guarded by two somewhat muscular men in black shirts and sunglasses. Ian loved his fans. They were his entire world. He loved seeing all of the incoming fan mail in his P.O. box, along with the little gifts and the fan art they all drew for him. He loved getting to know some of them through social media. He loved getting to meet them.

Getting to meet them was the best part – and sometimes the worst, depending on who you ask. Some fans will hug the life out of Ian, and others will have no idea what to do with themselves. Ian had no room to judge; he expected something like that to happen anyways. Plus, he had the opportunity to meet Mark Hamill once, and boy, did he have the shivers hours upon getting his autograph or what?

Ian hopped into his silver car after fumbling in his pocket to find his keys, and once his leather bag was thrown in the seat next to him and that he was buckled in, he turned on the ignition, preparing to pull out of the parking lot. Once his car got closer to where the fans were, he watched with interest as some of them made an attempt to sneak past the security. As much as Ian loved his job, he was also thankful for these men. If it weren’t for them, Ian probably would never get home in time.

“Hey guys!” Ian called out the window, and he was met with a few loud-pitched screams from some of the girls closer by. Ian’s stomach always got butterflies when he heard his fans just cheer him on. “I love you guys,” Ian called to them, “but I gotta go. I’m sorry.” He was instantly met with moans and whines from the fans before him, and Ian wished he didn’t have to leave now so he could talk with some of them.

However, today was supposed to be the day he and Mickey tried on their tuxes, and Ian didn’t want to keep his fiance waiting.

So with that in mind, he gave his fans one last wave before driving off down the street. He was somewhat early, according to the time on the dashboard, but the _Order in the Court_ set was a little far away from the place he and Mickey were supposed to be. A lot of things can happen between now and the time he’s scheduled to meet with, and Ian didn’t want to be late.

He had the address engraved in his mind somewhere, so finding the place wasn’t a problem. However, the set where he just was and his final destination were still far from each other. Ian had to hurry.

He sped up his car a little, making sure he didn’t overstep any speed limits along the way. The atmosphere inside the car started to make him a little nervous. He doesn’t really know why he’s nervous anyway; he’s finally gonna get married to the love of his life. The same guy he’s known since college – they’re getting married, and nothing could possibly be better than that.

Ian glanced over to the GPS on his dashboard, making sure he was going on the right path. At that moment, his cell phone started to ring. Ian wasn’t the kind of person who would pick his phone up while he’s driving; he’s been conscious about that ever since he started driving after high school.

The phone was making him a little anxious, though. It was probably his agent trying to reach him. Or Mickey calling from the warehouse where they’re supposed to try on their tuxes. Maybe it was Mandy trying to call Ian from the bridal shop where she and all of the girls in Ian and Mickey’s family were trying to find a decent bridesmaid dress to wear. Ian wasn’t sure, and he had the need to pull over and see what all the fuss was about.

Just when he was about to look around for a parking spot nearby, he was met with the sight of a large truck. There weren’t any street lights on that street where Ian was now, so to see that large truck just drive past out of nowhere scared the life out of him.

Literally.

Unfortunately, for Ian, there was nothing he could do about it. The front of his car immediately collided into the side of the truck, glass flying everywhere and metal scratching against metal. Before Ian even knew what was going on, everything faded to black.

* * *

“Mickey, will you calm down for a damn minute?” Iggy asked as he watched his younger brother pace around the room in his navy blue designer suit. Iggy wouldn’t be surprised if there were holes on the bottom of those polished black dress shoes by now.

Ian was supposed to be here twenty-five minutes ago, and so far, Mickey hasn’t heard back from him at all. Mickey called his cell phone over ten times today, leaving voice mails asking the redhead where he was. Mickey was ten seconds close to losing his damn mind.

He ran a hand over his face impatiently as he turned on his heel and continued to pace over the beige carpet for another second or so. Ian told Mickey he was free today after filming. Unless the director managed to pull some shit at the last minute, Ian should be fucking here right now. So why wasn’t he?

“Dude,” he heard Iggy say, and that’s when he felt two large hands on his biceps. Iggy turned his brother around so he was facing him. “Calm the fuck down, okay? He probably ran out of gas and is probably refilling the bitch up. Adele could probably be crossing the street where he is now, and they have to barricade the roads. Anything can fucking happen, man.”

Even Mickey knew that his brother had a point in all of this, though he still had no idea what the hell his fiance could be doing right now. Or where the hell his fiance actually _was_ right now.

He just needed to see him. He needed Ian to be here so Ian could try on his tux and so Mickey could get out of his. Sweat had been forming at his neck within the past few minutes, and he certainly didn’t want this damn thing to smell.

But he took his older brother’s advice – even for a moment or two – and strolled on over towards the dressing room he changed clothes in. His eyes stayed on the navy blue designer tux and shoes, making the Milkovich feel smaller than he had ever been.

Before last year, Mickey didn’t even think he would be eligible to get married, much less get married by someone who deeply cared about him. When he met Ian in college, he had no idea this charming young man would be his future husband. Now Mickey was standing in an expensive tux with a silver band on his ring finger and a pumping heart in his rib cage.

In a few months time, he and Ian would be married. They would have the life they always wanted. Mickey especially couldn’t wait to see Ian’s million-dollar smile as they leaned towards each other for a life-changing kiss. Mickey had many scenarios play in his head as to how he wanted the vows and shit to go. He had a whole speech planned out on his computer, and he had been waiting for months to say it in front of the love of his life.

Ian needed to hear those words. Ian needed to know how much he meant to Mickey. Ian needed to understand how much Mickey’s life changed since he walked right into it.

Ian needed to get the hell over here so the couple could wrap things up.

Mickey took one last sigh before untying his black silk tie from across his neck, folding it as neatly as how he found it. Of course, it wasn’t a perfect fold, but it could have been worse. He shrugged off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his white dress shirt before putting both of them on the hangers he left on the little bench. Now that a couple articles of clothing were off him, he had the chance to breathe, even if it was for a second or two.

He glanced down at his phone, grabbing it in an attempt to contact Ian once again. He was getting notifications from other people as well – his sister, Ian’s sister, his agent, the wedding planner the couple hired a while ago, one of the chefs – but none of those people mattered at the moment. He just needed to speak with Ian. He wanted to make sure he was okay and didn’t run into any problems.

Mickey’s fingers tapped at Ian’s name in his contacts, and when he brought the device to his ear, he allowed the rings to vibrate through his ear. Seconds later, and Ian still didn’t pick up. Instead, the same voicemail lady spoke into Mickey’s ear. He hated hearing that damn lady’s voice. Ian’s voice was the only one he cared about at the moment.

_God, Ian. Where the fuck are you?_

Once the familiar beep registered in Mickey’s mind, he began to send his thirteenth voice message. “Ian, I’m getting worried about you. You haven’t been answering my fucking calls. Where the hell are you?” Mickey’s voice cracked as he spoke. He shouldn’t be this worried about where the hell his future husband was supposed to be, but in a way, he really was. Usually Ian picked up the damn phone when Mickey was calling him, so why not now?

A second after Mickey took a brief moment to calm down internally, although it was hard to do so, he added, “call me back, Ian. We’re all waiting on you.” Pause. “I love you.” With that, Mickey hung up, threw his phone on top of the pile of clothes in the bench, and continued to pace around in his personal space.

Iggy was right; he would eventually burn the damn carpet if he kept at it like this.

All of a sudden, Mickey heard a couple of loud knocks against the dressing room door. He assumed that Ian would be on the other side, but he was met with disappointment when he realized that the voice belonged to a different person. “You decent in there, Mick?”

It was Mickey’s agent, Robert Moscow.

Robert Moscow was more of a friend than Mickey’s agent, the more Mickey thought about it. Yes, Robert had more power over him, which sounded completely absurd – Mickey had no room to judge the entertainment industry, though – but they got along like they were best friends. Robert knew what was in Mickey’s best interests. He knew his strengths, weaknesses, likes, dislikes – he knew it all. That’s why Mickey stuck by him for so long. He was the most reliable, considerate man in his life.

Well, other than Ian, of course.

At the thought of Ian, Mickey shook his head, feeling even more impatient. _Where the fuck is he?_

“In a minute,” Mickey called to the man on the other side of the door, and that’s when Mickey started getting dressed in his street clothes – a red short-sleeved shirt with some torn, black jeans and his black combat boots. Before even coming to this place, he thought he would feel out of place here – maybe it was wedding day jitters or something; he’s not sure.

Once he was fully dressed, he opened the dressing room door and was met with a solemn look on his agent’s face. He was chill most of the time, sure, but he was always smiling and energetic. Maybe not as optimistic-looking as Ian, but it was somewhat close to it. Clearly something was wrong with the man, or else he wouldn’t be looking like this.

“What’s up?” Mickey asked, getting even more nervous as the two men exchanged looks.

Robert was silent for a good thirty seconds, and that was driving Mickey nuts on the inside. However, that was a much easier feeling than the one Mickey suddenly felt when the next few words came out of Robert’s mouth.

“Ian got into an accident.”

* * *

The outside of the hospital, as well as the inside, was completely hectic. Worried fans were waiting outside, trying to get a sneak peek of what the hell was going on. Mickey, Iggy, Robert, Mandy, Fiona, and Lip were all feeling extremely anxious as they waited for the verdict of Ian’s condition. Fiona’s leg was bouncing up and down repetitively. Mandy and Lip were holding hands as tightly as possible. Iggy had his head in his hands.

And Mickey continued to pace once again, because there was no way in hell he could stand still.

“They’re still checking on him to see if he’s doing okay,” Robert stated as he approached Mickey, attempting to put his hands on his client’s shoulders, only to be shrugged away instantly. “He’s going to be okay, Mickey. All we can do right now is to have faith.”

“How do you know faith is gonna heal all of those fucking glass wounds?” Mickey asked, gritting his teeth a bit. His voice wavered a little bit, and that started to worry Robert. Mickey ran both of his hands through his face, wiping off the sweat that formed there during the time he’s been in the waiting room. “I – I just need for Ian to wake the fuck up. Just…”

Robert nodded, bringing a hand to Mickey’s back and rubbing it soothingly. That was all he could do for Mickey right now, like praying for Ian to wake up was all anyone in the waiting room could do for Ian right now. The atmosphere had completely changed within the past half hour. Mickey had been all excited to try on tuxedos, despite the shorter man’s attempts at hiding it. Robert knew how much this wedding meant to him and to Ian. All they wanted was happiness and a life full of success, but with each other as a married couple.

And to be perfectly honest, Robert was also nervous about Ian’s fate. He’s seen the man every time he and Mickey discussed business with each other in terms of new roles for Mickey to play. They were so fucking cute; it was disgusting. But it was very sweet and heart-warming. Robert didn’t want all of that to fall into shreds.

They had all been waiting in the waiting room for a few more minutes before a doctor came walking out through a set of double doors. “Ian Gallagher?” he called throughout the room.

Mickey was the first to dart into the direction of the doctor, Robert and Fiona close behind. “What’s going on?” Fiona spoke up first. “Is Ian alright? Can we go see him?” The doctor didn’t answer right away, and that alone had Mickey’s heart racing out of his chest.

And then the words Mickey never wanted to hear in his life came out with no turning back.

“We tried everything we could to save him,” the doctor began, and already, Mickey could hear Fiona’s heart-wrenching sobs behind him on his right side.

 _No. This isn’t fucking happening right now_.

“There was a lot of damage to his heart and lungs, and a lot of major organs had been crushed in reaction to the car crashing into the oncoming truck. We did everything we could, Miss Gallagher, but I’m sorry to say that Ian Gallagher has passed away.”

Mickey’s entire world stopped. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Maybe he wasn’t seeing or hearing straight and that Ian was back there, waiting for him to bring his silly ass into the room.

But then Fiona’s cries got louder behind him. A shrill scream came from Mandy seconds later.

 _No_.

 _No_.

Mickey found himself shaking his head repetitively at the doctor in front of him. “No,” he found himself saying. “He’s waiting for me, isn’t he? This is some kind of fucking practical joke, isn’t it?”

“I’m deeply sorry for your loss, Mr. Milkovich –“

“No,” Mickey interrupted, shaking his head some more in sudden anger. “Fuck you. Fuck all of you. Ian’s not dead. You hear me? Ian’s not fucking dead.”

“Mickey,” he could hear his agent speak behind him. Robert’s voice was wavering, too, and as real as all of this felt, Mickey didn’t want to believe it. _Ian’s fucking alive. Ian’s waiting for me. Ian promised we’d be together forever. He fucking promised_.

“Fuck you!” Mickey started to shout. He didn’t have time for this shit. He wanted to see Ian. He needed to see Ian. He needed to hear his voice, to touch him, to kiss him. He needed him to be okay. “He’s fucking alive, and he’s waiting for me. Where the fuck is he? I want to see him. He’s fucking waiting for me, isn’t he?”

“Mr. Milkovich,” the doctor spoke again, trying to grab a hold of the shorter, “I just need you to calm down –“

“Gallagher!” Mickey shouted all of a sudden, pushing the doctor’s hands away from him. “Gallagher! My last name’s fucking Gallagher!”

Before anyone could say anything else, Mickey ran past the doctor in an attempt to find Ian somewhere in one of the operation rooms. Unfortunately for him, Robert had already caught up, grabbing Mickey and hugging him close, trapping his arms so he wouldn’t escape.

“Get the fuck off of me!”

“Mickey, please.”

“Let me go back there. I need to see Ian.”

“Mickey, Ian’s gone.”

“No, he’s not. He’s here. He’s fucking alive. He promised.”

“Mickey!”

Robert did everything he could to sustain the shorter man in his arms. The doctor eventually made his way over to help him hold Mickey down, and soon enough, the Milkovich was on the hard, white-tiled floor beneath their feet, unable to run any further than he already had.

At this point, Mickey’s body was trembling. The two men were pulling him away from the door and any chance he had of seeing Ian’s face. He couldn’t let these doors separate him from the love of his life, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He was trapped. He was seized. He was held down.

He was _falling_.

The only person who kept Mickey ground all this time wasn’t here anymore. Mickey couldn’t stay up. He couldn’t hold himself together. He was just falling.

Mickey’s eyes had been glossy for the past two minutes after getting the news on Ian’s death, and he didn’t want to let them out in the presence of other people. However, with Ian gone, he had no use in holding his tears in anymore. Ian was the only one would could get any and all emotions out of him. He was the only one who made Mickey feel safe, happy, and free. As long as Ian was around, Mickey could feel however he wanted to feel.

Only now, the only thing he was feeling his heartbreak. Disappointment. Anger. Betrayed by fucking fate itself.

What good ever came out of fate?

The first round of tears of the day started pouring out of Mickey’s face, and the ugliest yet most painful cry left his lips. He found himself hugging his arms close to his chest, rocking back and forth as he allowed the pain to consume his body. Robert had knelt down and gave Mickey a one-arm hug, holding him close and letting him know that at least someone was here to take care of him while he cried.

But Mickey didn’t want anyone else here. He wanted Ian. He’s wanted Ian ever since their first date, their first kiss, their first time…and eventually, their engagement. He wanted Ian all this time, and Mickey was this close to having him for the rest of his life.

Now he had nothing. Within minutes, everything Mickey ever wanted was gone.

* * *

The news broke out moments after the news got out to Ian’s family. The people in the waiting room who had been listening to the conversations from afar started sending messages to Ian’s fan base over social media and through text messages. The people outside of the hospital eventually found out. Some of them were either in complete denial, or they were completely devastated. It’s like the Earth blew up all of a sudden, and Ian was the cause of the destruction.

News outlets and paparazzi started arriving at the hospital, much to the family’s annoyance. Mickey didn’t want to speak to anyone. He didn’t have the energy to deal with everyone’s questions. He just wanted to go home.

Back in the bed he and Ian used to share.

The drive home was a little quiet, minus Mickey’s sniffles and the rumbling of Robert’s deep green car. Mickey couldn’t drive home today. His heart had been continuously breaking all day, and his hands were too shaky to even have a steady hold on the steering wheel. He could very well end up in the same situation his late future husband got in hours ago.

Though that didn’t seem like a bad idea, either, according to Mickey.

Robert stayed quiet for the rest of the drive. He didn’t want to say anything that would further upset his client. He already did enough shouting at him to calm down for the day.

His heart was very heavy for him, though. Mickey is nowhere near stable at the moment, and Robert’s not sure if he’ll ever be. Ian was the love of Mickey’s life and vice versa. They would do anything for each other. Their fans loved them to death. There would be at least a few tweets a day, expressing how much a fan loved Ian and Mickey’s relationship. When either one of them hit some kind of road block – whether it be another encounter with Mickey’s father, or Ian going through some depression stage – they always had each other’s backs. Robert wouldn’t have been surprised if _Time Magazine_ called them the Power Couple of the Year, for Christ’s sake.

Robert pulled the car up towards Mickey’s garage door, and once the car’s ignition was turned off, Mickey immediately unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the car. Robert quickly followed him, making sure he locked the car doors properly.

However, Mickey didn’t want to deal with anyone’s bullshit at the moment. He needed to be alone, because frankly, this was a lot of weight on his own shoulders to carry.

So when he unlocked his door, Mickey entered the house and tried closing the front door shut. However, Robert had a good, strong hold on the door, so there was no kicking him out. “Mickey, come on. Please. I’m not gonna try and talk to you or anything, alright? I just wanna check in on you –“

“You don’t need to fucking check on me,” Mickey replied with a lot of bite in his tone. “You’ve been with me for the majority of the day. I’m fucking fine.”

Robert sighed. “I just want to make sure you won’t do anything irrational. I know how you get when you’re mad, especially during times like this –“

“I’m not gonna do shit, okay?” Mickey barked. “Just leave me the fuck alone!”

Mickey and Robert weren’t usually on bad terms like they were now, even if they tend to get on each other’s nerves. Just hearing all of the anger and emotion in Mickey’s voice, and seeing it spread all over his face, made Robert feel worse than he already was.

And maybe Mickey was right. Maybe he won’t do anything irrational. But no one’s ever a hundred percent sure of anything. For all Robert knew, Mickey could have some kind of drug overdose and kill himself behind his locked bedroom door. All of the pain he consumed earlier could prompt him to do that, which is why he wanted to keep an eye out for him.

At the same time, though, Mickey needed some personal space, too. He is going through a rough time right now.

Seconds later, Robert nodded slowly but surely. Finally, he made a move to turn around and head back to his car, but not before looking at Mickey and saying, “I’m really, really sorry about all of this, Mick.”

“Don’t,” Mickey replied, shaking his head at him. He shook his head a couple of times more, and that’s when his agent noticed another layer of tears forming in the shorter man’s eyes. “Ian used to call me _Mick_.”

That shouldn’t have hurt Robert as much as it did, but it did anyway. He could feel the heart break from Mickey’s system transferring into his own system. He hated seeing his clients like this, especially Mickey. He’s one of his favorite actors to work with because of how unique and bold he was. Seeing him in all of those performances growing up out of college just made Robert so proud of him, and from then on, he knew Mickey, as well as Ian, would go down this road with the sun shining down on them the entire way.

But now the road ahead was so much darker now. Ian was gone. Mickey was depressed. There was nothing anyone could do that would change that.

Finally, Robert gave Mickey a sad, silent nod before heading over to his car, leaving Mickey to shut the front door. Once Mickey made it to the center of the room towards the stairs, he allowed his legs to give up on him as he fell on his butt on the hardwood floor. At the thud, another long, devastating sob left Mickey’s mouth as he let out another stream of tears.

* * *

To say Mickey looked terrible since Ian’s death was an understatement. He didn’t just _look_ terrible; he _was_ terrible. Not even the sips of alcohol could help bring him back to life.

A few hours following Ian’s death, news outlets have prepared their news reports and started presenting them live for the world to see.

“Breaking news from Los Angeles,” a female reporter spoke into the camera, “ _Order in the Court_ actor Ian Gallagher was pronounced dead as a result of a deadly car crash. Fellow celebrities, fans, friends, and family members have spoken out about the Chicago native’s untimely death.” As the reporter spoke, there was a clip being shown of Ian on the night of his show’s season four premiere, signing autographs from the people who were waiting outside.

 _No_ , Mickey thought to himself. _I don’t need this shit right now_.

As if out of impulse, Mickey changed the channel to another station. Another news anchor was reporting the same news but in a different fashion.

“Hollywood is mourning the loss of 32-year-old Ian Gallagher, who portrayed fan favorite Kyle Adams on the hit prime-time drama, _Order in the Court_ ,” a male reporter spoke as he stood in front of a digital image of Ian from his red carpet appearance at the Golden Globe Awards from a few months ago. “According to the LA Police Department, Gallagher had gotten into a car accident upon leaving the _Court_ set to meet with his husband-to-be, Mickey Milkovich, on the other side of town.”

 _I really don’t fucking need this shit_.

Mickey changed the channel once more, and he was already hit with another live news report that seemed to be ending, according to the reporter’s words. “We were unable to get a formal statement from Gallagher’s agent nor his former fiance, Mickey Milkovich –“

The television was shut off within a nanosecond. Mickey was this close to throwing the damn remote. He didn’t want to hear anyone talking about Ian’s death anymore. He didn’t want to hear them ask a shit load of questions. He didn’t want news reporters or hosts saying Mickey’s name and wondering what his thoughts or opinions were about this tragedy. Mickey just wanted everyone to shut the fuck up.

Mickey took his bottle of whiskey and brought it with him upstairs. The house felt so cold and empty without Ian in it. Of course, he could have asked Robert to just come back to the house, or he could have actually answered some of Mandy’s phone calls from earlier about coming over to see him. He could have done any of that, but he didn’t want to. The world around him felt irrelevant to him now. His thoughts were with Ian. His mind set was with Ian. His heart was with Ian.

 _Everything_ was with Ian.

After closing the bedroom door shut behind him, Mickey crawled back into the bed, covering himself with the wrinkled bed sheets and taking a swig of some of the alcohol left in the bottle. He placed the bottle on the night stand and took a moment to look around in the empty room.

Ian and Mickey never really kept their room neat. They didn’t seem to give a shit. They had an idea where a lot of things were, so it wasn’t much of a problem to them. Ian kept his scripts in green or black folders on the desk somewhere so he didn’t mistake them with Mickey’s scrambled-up scripts on the other side. Ian was a little neater than Mickey, though he had his messy moments, like how he’s always leaving his clothes on the back of the goddamn chair.

But Mickey couldn’t judge; he always did that growing up.

Mickey’s head immediately turned to the pillow right next to him. Ian always slept on that pillow. Mickey could smell Ian’s body and hair shampoo on that damn thing. It’s like the redhead never left him at all.

He adjusted his position on the bed so he was laying down on the mattress before he turned his body in the direction of the other side of the bed – _Ian’s_ side of the bed. It looked so bare; Mickey couldn’t stand it. Ian’s body imprint was still there from when he woke up earlier this morning for his last day on set. Mickey was almost hesitant to even put a hand there. He didn’t want to erase the reminder he had of Ian’s body, even if he’s pretty sure he has plenty of pictures of him on his phone.

But he did anyway. He placed a flat palm on the mattress where Ian was previously sleeping. The spot still felt warm, although the couple hadn’t been together in the house for a few hours or so. That pretty much described what kind of person Ian really was. He was a warm-hearted person, with many good intentions and the need to make the world a better place. He was the human being Mickey wished everyone got to be. He was…

Mickey chuckled at himself at that word. _Was_. He’ll bet that, even in heaven, Ian’s still the best goddamn thing to ever happen to him. Mickey can’t refer to his form – his _fiance_ – in past tense anymore. He can’t, and he won’t. Ian’s not a thing of the past to him. He’ll always remain in Mickey’s heart.

Which is probably why his heart keeps breaking on a loop all day long.

Mickey made a move to grab the Ian-scented pillow in front of him. As much as he didn’t want to do it, he had to hug it. He needed to regain the feeling of just…hugging Ian close to him. They haven’t hugged since last night, and Mickey was in a dire need of a hug from him right now.

Unfortunately, the realization was suddenly hitting him like a ton of bricks.

Ian won’t be there to hug him anymore.

And that’s what prompted more tears out of Mickey’s eyes. They soaked into the Ian-scented pillow underneath him as he hugged it close to his chest. It was soft and smelled as sweet as Ian did, but that damn pillow will never be Ian.

* * *

There had been a nice, private funeral set up for Ian a week following his death. All of Ian’s friends, family members, and cast members from _Order in the Court_ came to send Ian off. Everything was completely beautiful – the yellow and blue flowers on the silver casket, a photo of Ian and Mickey perfectly placed in a golden frame, and even a large signature book for people close to him to sign. Everything was perfect. Even Mickey had to agree that a perfect man like Ian deserved a perfect home-going ceremony.

But the sting from the news he received from the doctor a week ago still remained. He was still in denial about all of this. He wasn’t ready to let Ian go.

The guests who all came and heard Mickey’s speech during the funeral itself all knew this. Mickey had a whole speech prepared and everything, but not for the reasons he wanted to have one prepared. A week ago, he was this close to memorizing his vows to Ian down to a T. Now, he had to scrap everything he had and replace every promise to Ian with every memory of him.

“I’m…I’m still having a hard time trying to process it all, you know?” Mickey began into the microphone as he gazed upon the hundreds of people in the room. A few heads in the audience nodded in response. All of these people were close to Ian, to some degree. This all didn’t feel as real as it actually was.

 _Fuck_.

Mickey shrugged. “I just…I just don’t get how people can fucking move on from shit like this.” He brought a hand up to his nose and scratched underneath it with his index finger before exchanging looks with everyone in the audience. He could see the stained makeup marks on Fiona’s face from where he stood behind the podium. Besides Mickey himself, out of everyone in the room, Fiona was the most affected by Ian’s death, and she had a right to be. Ian was Fiona’s rock, along with Lip. The three of them have been on this ride since they were kids, and to see Ian go suddenly just ripped Fiona and Lip apart.

If Mickey had life his way, Ian wouldn’t be gone right now. He would be doing some live interview with some talk show host, discussing his upcoming projects and the wedding he and Mickey were supposed to have. Then Ian would make a quick call to Fiona, letting her know that he was getting close to the church where the wedding was scheduled. He would show up in the matching tux he and Mickey planned to wear, and he would be walking down that damn aisle with his arm linked with Fiona, gazing ahead at the man of his dreams.

And Mickey would look back at him, smiling at that beautiful pair of green eyes he’s grown to love over the past few years.

If Mickey had life his way, Ian wouldn’t be dead, and he wouldn’t feel so depressed and alone like he was now. Unfortunately, fate was and always will be a bitch, so Mickey almost never had his way.

“I don’t think I ever left our…” Mickey started, but then he stopped himself for a moment. “ _My_ bedroom…for a few days after I found out.” He didn’t want to change possessive pronouns on this one, because a lot of Ian’s belongings were still in that goddamn room – his clothes, his shampoo and conditioners, his scripts, his photos of the Gallaghers – all of it was still there. The majority of Ian’s belongings were in that bedroom, yet the man who owned them was nowhere in sight.

Mickey felt his Adam’s apple throbbing a bit as he continued his speech. “Anyone who knows me will understand that…that Ian is the love of my life. He’s _always_ been the love of my life, even before I knew or acknowledged it. He was…a fucking treasure box waiting to be found, and I knew I struck gold the moment I met him and got to know him, you know what I mean?” More heads nodded in response.

“He wasn’t the most put-together man in the world; I mean, we obviously have our setbacks and all of that,” Mickey went on, “but I still thought about how lucky I was to have a perfect man like him walk into my life…and to sweep me off my fucking feet, as cliched as that sounded.” He took a moment to take a deep breath, and that’s when he felt more tears well up in his eyes. He didn’t want to break down now – he’ll save that for when he’s at home and away from the funeral guests – but boy, he definitely felt another crying session come along.

“We had it all planned out. Get married. Have a kid. Get a new home with a fucking white picket fence or some shit. Ian had so many dreams, and I was always there to listen to every last one of them. Some of them were a little bigger for me to make come true than others, but I knew right then and there that I could at least start with a promise ring. I gave him one about five years before I gave him the engagement ring.” Mickey chuckled lightly. “He would go on and on about how he would never take ‘em off and cherish the fuck out of them until the day he…”

Mickey stopped. His eyes immediately fell upon the closed casket below him at eye level with the audience.

Maybe it wasn’t the time to complete that statement.

A tear started to fall down Mickey’s cheek. He still couldn’t believe his future husband was in that casket. The same man he planned to marry in a few months will eventually be buried six feet into the ground. Once the deal is sealed, Mickey will never get to see the tall ginger-haired man ever again.

His body was shaking some more. He found it harder to get his words out. He wanted this to all be a dream. He just wanted to wake up and find his husband laying down by his side in their nice, comfy bed.

Why couldn’t all of this just be a damn dream?

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this,” Mickey croaked. The sound of the man’s voice broke Mandy and Fiona’s hearts. Mickey’s eyes got a little redder, and his face seemed to get a little more pale. He and Ian could have had a life together. They could have. Now, all Mickey had were the memories…

The once happy, beautiful memories that will now haunt Mickey until the day _he_ died.

Mickey’s lips started to quiver as he added, “it wasn’t supposed to fucking end like this.” His eyes and mouth were closed shut as he hung his head, allowing more tears to freely fall down his face. He could feel hands on his back – he assumed that they belonged to either the pastor or his agent – trying to rid the physical pain that was radiating through Mickey’s body.

Only the physical pain isn’t as bad as the emotional. Their rubs and pats of assurance felt good to Mickey, yeah, but the emotional pain he was feeling was ten times worst.

* * *

About a few weeks passed since the funeral, and Mickey didn’t get much better.

Robert kept calling him over the phone, asking him where he was and that Mickey was asked to be a guest on a talk show to discuss the upcoming season of _Temptation_ that was coming out in early October. Mickey didn’t want to go to any talk shows to discuss the yucky feeling he was experiencing following Ian’s death, so he just ignored the calls.

The directors and writers behind  _Temptation_ were wondering where the hell Mickey even was, for they had started on the show’s season six premiere a few days ago, and Mickey wasn’t there to film for it. Mickey knew he should be feeling bad about himself for skipping days from filming his show, but he was still feeling extremely numb and depressed. What else was he supposed to do?

His Twitter fans kept on tagging him in posts, wondering why he wasn’t seen in any of the cast photos. Mickey wanted to answer some of them so bad, but he had no idea which 140-character message he wanted to send to let them know that they shouldn’t be worrying about his personal problems.

Actually, Mickey didn’t even feeling like talking or typing at all. He was just a hundred percent done.

He had been in his house clothes all day, watching random reruns of _Order in the Court_ and allowing his gut to wrench at the sight of Ian dressed in a really nice suit in one of the court room scenes. Mickey always expressed how good Ian looked in those damn suits. He had no idea how the costume department managed to get so much money for some very exquisite outfits like those, but he was grateful Ian had the opportunity to slip them on.

Just when it got to the scene where Kyle Adams walked into his three-bedroom home to discuss a mass shooting at a public high school with his girlfriend, he heard a couple of knocks at the door. He seriously hoped there wasn’t any paparazzi outside, or else he was gonna kick somebody’s ass.

There was no paparazzi, after all; it was Fiona and Mandy.

“The fuck do you want?” Mickey grumbled, doing nothing as the two women walked into the house.

“Your agent has been calling me for days, asking me whether or not I could get you out of the damn house,” Mandy first spoke, closing the front door behind him.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “So you’re my designated mother for the day now or something?”

“No, dumb ass,” Mandy barked back, “but you have a job to do. You have shit to film in time for the premiere of the new season of your damn show, and all you’re doing right now is lounging around on the couch and being miserable for yourself.”

“I’m sorry if my grieving process is different from yours,” Mickey argued, “but I’m still going through shit here –“

“You’ve been going through shit for weeks, and all you’re basically doing now is sitting on your ass and re-watching Ian’s old work.”

Mickey started to ball his hand into a fist. He didn’t have time for Mandy’s bullshit. He just wanted her and Fiona to leave so he could be alone and at peace, but clearly that’s not happening until Mickey got his ass off the couch to work. _Goddamn fucking Robert_.

“It’s not Ian’s old fucking work,” Mickey replied. “It’s from the third fucking season.”

He ran a hand over his face, trying to rid it of all the stress. With his younger sister here, though, it was complicated.

He needed another fucking drink.

As Mickey started to walk on over to the kitchen to retrieve another can of beer, Fiona followed close behind. “Mickey, if you’re not gonna leave the house now,” she began, “could you at least hear us out?”

Mickey grabbed the first full can of beer from off the top shelf inside the refrigerator, cracking it open as he replied, “I’m done with fucking hearing people out.”

Fiona ran a hand through her hair as she observed the defeated look on Mickey’s face. Usually he didn’t look this down; he was grumpy most of the time, sure, but he didn’t carry so much dead weight inside of him before Ian passed away. This wasn’t the Mickey Milkovich that Fiona got to know. “It’s been weeks, Mickey. I get it. Ian’s my little brother, okay? I know how painful this feels,” she continued, bending down a bit so she could try to look Mickey directly in the eye. “But you have to let him go.”

Mickey shook his head. _Fucking let him go_ , Mickey thought sarcastically. He can never let a good thing like Ian go just like that.

“Ian would want that,” Fiona added. “Ian would want you to move on and be happy.”

Mickey lifted his head, frowning in Fiona’s direction, and that’s when the older woman stopped speaking. Something about Mickey’s expressionless face set her off somehow. Mickey had that intention to make her feel that way. After all, no one had the same amount of pain for Ian that Mickey had.

“How do you expect me to fucking move on and be happy when the one person in my life that fucking freed me is six feet under?” Fiona didn’t answer. “How –“ He chuckled a bit, and Mandy started to get nervous. “How the actual fuck do you expect me to move on and forget everything Ian and I shared like he was just some random piece of trash on the street –“

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do –“

“Then what the fuck do you want from me?” Mickey asked, his voice rising. “I lost everything in my life that gave me purpose, okay? I have fucking nothing.”

The room was silent for a few moments, and Mickey began to walk back into the living room to sit down at watch _Order in the Court_ reruns. Neither Mandy nor Fiona moved from their spots by the kitchen entrance, but once they regained their composure, Fiona started to follow Mickey into the living room, taking a seat next to him on the soft, brown couch.

“You do have a purpose, Mickey,” Fiona started, her voice lower than it previously was. “You most definitely have a purpose –“

“Fucking stop already,” Mickey mumbled under his breath.

“Fucking believe me when I say you do then.” She sounded like she had a lot of anger in her voice, but truthfully, she wasn’t angry at all. She really cared about the Milkovich boy. She cared ever since Ian described that cute guy across the hall from his dorm in his sophomore year of college.

She couldn’t get mad at the man who brought a smile to Ian’s face every day before he died.

“You have a wonderful career right now, Mick,” Fiona began, scooting closer to Mickey’s feet on the couch. “A lot of people know and love you very much – not just Ian. You have so much potential. All of your fans can see that. Your fellow cast mates can see that. Your directors can see that.”

“Not to mention us,” Mandy added, and Fiona nodded in agreement. “We’ve had your back for years, Mick. Don’t forget that.”

“Your support group is larger than you can imagine,” Fiona continued, placing a gentle hand on Mickey’s leg, trying to gather his attention. When he started to turn his head in Fiona’s direction, he noticed the sincerity of her facial expressions. She meant every word she was trying to say, and she wanted Mickey to succeed so badly. “Everyone wants you to do better and to be better. You understand me?” Mickey didn’t answer right away; his eyes fell to the red blanket he draped over his legs.

Fiona shook her head at him. “Please don’t give all of that up. Ian’s a very special person. I get it. But now he’s gone. I’m still having a hard time accepting it, too, but…I have to at some point, or else I can never move on.”

Mickey gulped at Fiona’s wavering voice. Fiona did really have a lot of weight on her shoulders when it came to her grieving process. So did Mandy, Lip, Robert, and anyone else who got to know Ian as much as Mickey did. A lot of hearts were heavy during this time, not just Mickey’s. He wasn’t as alone in this as he thought he was.

When Mickey didn’t respond to the girls’ pleas, Mandy and Fiona started to stand up and make their way towards the front door. Before leaving the house, Mandy turned around to face her brother one last time. Her shoulders slumped at the look on his face. “Mick?” she spoke, and Mickey’s eyes found her sister’s instantly. “Please…just – take care of yourself.”

With that, she and Fiona were gone, and Mickey was left alone in the house once again, stuck swimming in his own thoughts.

* * *

It was the night of the Emmy Awards. It was the first Emmy Awards ceremony where Ian wasn’t in attendance. It took a while for that to register in Mickey’s brain, but it did. He was alone at the Emmy Awards – the same night he was nominated for an Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama award – and Ian wouldn’t have the opportunity to watch him receive his award.

Unlike the day of the funeral, and the wedding he and Ian were supposed to have, Mickey didn’t have a speech prepared or anything. So when he heard his name being called, he was actually taken by surprise.

“And the award for Outstanding Lead Actor in a Drama Series goes to…Mickey Milkovich, _Temptation_.”

Everyone in the room started to applaud him as he got up out of his seat and made his way to the stage. His heart began to race as he walked across the black, marble floor to receive his golden trophy. He had gotten Emmy Awards before, but now that he and Ian weren’t together anymore, it was almost like he was a little kid performing solo at a talent show or something. As an actor, he always tended to put his brave face on and put on a show, so that wasn’t so bad, to be honest.

At the same time, Ian wasn’t physically present, either, and that was emotionally damaging, to say the least.

Once the presenters stepped to the side, Mickey gazed out at the audience before him. Some of them were still clapping, and others were watching and waiting for Mickey to start his speech. Mickey honestly had no clue on where he wanted to start, though he was kind of excited to have the opportunity to get another one of these damn trophies.

“Wow,” Mickey started softly, looking down at the trophy in his hands. “I just – I don’t know what to say.” He paused. “I wasn’t joking; I really have no idea what to say.” A couple of laughs erupted throughout the room.

 _Good going, Milkovich. Start them off with a laugh_.

“Uh, I just…wanted to say that I’m really thankful to have the people in my life that I have,” Mickey began, scanning the audience for his agent near the middle section of the room. “For the past couple of months or so, I…haven’t been at my best, as much of an understatement that sounded.”

The room was suddenly quiet. He didn’t like it when the room was this quiet.

“As you all know, I lost a really, really special person in my life this past spring,” Mickey continued, glancing down at his shoes for a moment before looking around the room once again. “There’s still this major hole in my heart every time I think about him, really. We could have been married just last month before we went back to working hours upon hours with our cast and crew members, whom I am very grateful for, by the way.” He could see the slight nod come from Robert from a distance away.

“I’m still finding it to be very tough to move on without him,” Mickey continued. He shook his head. “I’m not gonna try and be the guy who’s gonna sit there and say, _it gets better_ and all that jazz, because I’m not that kind of person. I’m not.”

He sighed for a moment before his eyes found Mandy somewhere in the audience. He could spot her scarlet red dress easily, along with her hair put up in somewhat of a messy bun. “I will say, though, that a lot of people in my life have been helping me get through this. My sister, my brothers, my manager, Ian’s family, my cast members – they’ve all been there for me. I don’t think I would have had the strength to move on if Fiona and Mandy hadn’t shown up to my house one afternoon to come drag my ass off the couch.”

Some audience members – Fiona and Mandy included – started to giggle. Seeing their smiling faces just made Mickey smile a little bit. He still wondered to this day how he deserved people like them.

“So I just wanted to thank everyone who has been in my life at one point or another,” Mickey concluded, looking down at the trophy in his hands. “I especially want to thank Ian for giving me so much confidence and believing in me when I didn’t believe in myself.” He paused. “I still miss him. Like crazy.” Mickey sighed. “But deep down, he wants me to be happy and to achieve as much as I can. That’s why I wanted to dedicate this award to him, as well as my family, friends, co-workers, and fan base that have had my back for so many years. Thank you all for your love and support. Thank you.”

He thanked the audience and was met with a round of applause as he turned around and followed the presenters off the stage. As he walked, he glanced down at the golden Emmy Award in his hand, allowing the pads of his fingers to rub over the reflective gold as he made his way backstage.

If only Ian could see him now.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to. I'm sorry.
> 
> I also made a [gifset](http://aridayagrande.tumblr.com/post/147610208309/gallavich-week-2016-day-2-the-show-must-go-on%22) to go with this, because the idea was too good to not make one for it.


End file.
